


our bed, the operating table

by Anonymous



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: AFAB Cloud, Fisting, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:09:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26991190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: he loves him, and so he must take him apart.(kinktober 2020, week 1 - fisting)
Relationships: Sephiroth/Cloud Strife
Comments: 4
Kudos: 73
Collections: Anonymous





	our bed, the operating table

**Author's Note:**

> (note: i use some terminology to refer to afab parts that i, a gnc afab person, am comfortable with, but others might not be. feel free to pass on this one based on that, no hard feelings!)
> 
> i'll be doing kinktober this year, doing one prompt a week hopefully, so stay tuned!!

To Cloud, sex with Sephiroth is worship in its most ruinous form. It’s akin to being split open with a knife, it’s letting Sephiroth _see_ him, study him, rearrange his pieces as he sees fit — and maybe love for him was always meant to be like this. Maybe love is being taken apart and put back together, again and again, _ritualistic._

A kiss is pressed to Cloud’s jaw, then another, deceptively soft. If it were anyone but Sephiroth, he would call it a tender gesture — and as it stands, it almost could be called tender nonetheless. _Almost._ Sephiroth’s lips drag over the column of his neck, tracing over his collarbone, along the curve of his breast and down to his sternum. His mouth becomes the blade opening Cloud up, leaving him pliant and vulnerable beneath him. It’s never just sex, not for them. It’s dismemberment, methodical and slow. 

Sephiroth breathes out a slow exhale, eyes falling shut as he rests his head against Cloud’s chest, nearly reverent.

“I hate you as much as I am devoted to you, Cloud Strife,” Sephiroth practically sighs, “but the things we loathe are so often the things we love. _Isn’t that right?_ ”

Cloud rolls his eyes. It’s just his luck that he ends up with a mortal enemy with a flair for the dramatic. “How can you say this shit with a straight face?”

Sephiroth’s smile is slow and catlike, _amused,_ as his gaze flickers up to Cloud’s own. “Mouthy today, are we?”

“Shut up,” Cloud huffs, grabbing Sephiroth by the chin none too gently and pulling him in for a kiss simply to occupy Sephiroth’s mouth. Their kisses are often aggressive, all tongues and teeth, and this one is no different; sex and violence bleed together so effortlessly for them, after all. It’s with slightly labored breath that Cloud pulls away after some time, and Sephiroth’s hands begin to wander lower along his body, already laid bare.

Now laid out on his back, vulnerable, it’s almost as if he’s offering himself up to Sephiroth, who seems to know — and most likely, he does, with their beings so immutably entangled as they are. His hands trace upwards along toned, lighty freckled thighs, nails dragging over his skin lightly. 

Sephiroth eases a finger inside him, and Cloud’s breath hitches audibly as it slides in without resistance.  
  
“It seems your body betrays you. You hate me as I hate you, and yet you’re so _receptive_ ,” Sephiroth all but purrs, easily slipping in a second finger shortly after. Cloud whimpers despite himself as Sephiroth angles his hand just so and scissors his fingers apart, his hips jolting upwards into the touch that’s as devastating as it is intoxicating.

“Shall I test your limits?” The words are spoken into the crook of his neck, breath hot on his skin like a brand, as his own breath comes out in ragged pants.

Cloud’s mind is pleasantly blank, and it takes him a brief moment to gain enough composure to speak. “ _Sephiroth,_ ” he whimpers. It’s the closest to begging he’ll willingly get. Sephiroth knows this, and he’s rewarded with another finger pressing inside him.

Sephiroth’s fingers are slender, _graceful_ , and even the three currently inside him stretch him open so delightfully, nearly overwhelming — and then he edges in another, and it’s almost too much to bear. At this point, Cloud has long since ceased trying to cling to his composure, allowing desperate, wanton noises to slip freely past kiss-swollen lips. He can’t possibly take any more, he’s sure, until Sephiroth proves him wrong. The sensation is divine, _exquisite_ , as he’s stretched to his limits, chest heaving and muscles trembling.

_If Sephiroth opened his chest, dug past layers of skin and fat and gristle, would his body yield the same way and let him in?_

“You’re taking me so well,” Sephiroth intones as his hand works within Cloud, voice whisper-soft as if it’s a dearly kept secret as his other hand strokes over blond hair like one would a favoured hound. “It’s like you were made for this. For me.”

Cloud, too far gone to ponder on the implications of what Sephiroth has said, let alone respond, meets his movements halfway with desperate rolls of his hips. Sephiroth’s free hand comes to circle Cloud’s clit lazily in time with his hand’s thrusts within him, acid-green eyes trained on the way Cloud’s body gives way to him. That’s all it takes to send Cloud over the edge with a cry of Sephiroth’s name, his body both tense and lax as he feels weightless, boneless, as he tightens around Sephiroth’s hand, which has since stopped moving as he simply revels in watching Cloud come undone.

_This demise is a blissful one._

Sephiroth withdraws his fist slowly, almost carefully. There’s no words exchanged as Cloud settles under the sheets, followed by Sephiroth; not that they’re the type for pillow talk anyway.

As Cloud drifts into unconsciousness, the pattern they have settled into continues as usual — Sephiroth will leave sometime in the night, and in the morning, there would be a single black feather atop the pillow next to him.


End file.
